“Do not fuck right there on the couch,” Emmie whines behind me.
His hands tighten on my hips, forcing me to grind down on his already hard cock.
A moan rips from my lips as the seam of my hot pants grazes my clit just so.
“Nah, not until she’s stitched up and not bleeding all over Theo’s sofa. He doesn’t need any more reason to go psycho when he gets home.”
Having said that, he doesn’t stop moving me against him, and I certainly don’t make any moves to stop him.
“So you want pizza then,” Emmie mutters, clearly ignoring us. “I assume the other bellends will want feeding.”
“Yeah. Torturing people makes guys hungry,” Seb confirms, his voice like pure fucking sex.
Reaching up, he grips my chin tightly, his fingertips digging into my skin in the most delicious way as he drags me down to meet his lips, his hips continuing to roll.
My release surges forward, and my surroundings vanish.
“Shatter for me, Hellion,” he growls into our kiss.
One more graze of my clit and I fall.
He swallows my moans of pleasure as they rip through my body.
“So, flaming hot for you then,” I hear Emmie announce once the blood stops rushing past my ears.
“Excuse me, I need to—”
“Go and knock one out in your bedroom?” Emmie offers.
“No,” Seb scolds, lifting me from his lap and making no attempt to hide the fact that he has to rearrange himself in his pants as he stands, “a car just pulled up. I’m going to let Alex’s mum in.”
“Oh,” she replies a little sheepishly while I snigger in amusement.
“Was that necessary?” she sulks once Seb’s disappeared downstairs.
“After the stress of the past hour? Hell yes.”
“Chance would be a fine thing.”
“Alex has already offered. I’m sure you could still—” She cuts me a look that stops me. “Oh come on, you know you’d love it.”
“Yeah, probably,” she agrees. “But what I wouldn’t enjoy is their smug-as-fuck bragging after.”
My lips part to argue, but to be fair, she’s got a point.
“Stella, Emmie, this is Gianna, Alex and Daemon’s mum.”
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” I say, forcing a happy smile onto my lips while Emmie barely even glances at her.
“Pizza will be forty-five minutes,” she mutters. “I’m going to pee.”
“Right, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Gianna says, lowering a bag to the coffee table and dropping down beside it as she inspects my wounds. “We’ll have you patched up in no time, sweetie.”